#magicmishaptw

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Derek says evenly, hoping Scott is too freaked out to sense that it’s at least two-thirds of a lie because Derek probably knows what this is and Stiles is probably going to be just fine, but poking purple mushrooms with sticks has consequences, dammit.

“Please, Derek,” he says, and Derek nods, lets Stiles drag his head down so he can stroke his own against it, a contented sigh leaving Stiles' lips just as Derek starts to walk again. The whole walk to the cabin is like that, Stiles trying to be steady on his own legs as his body aches with want, touching Derek, licking at his neck and murmuring nonsense in his ear as Derek drags them both until they finally get there.

“No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

Stiles freezes, carton of milk half way to his mouth. He looks around the empty room, wondering if it has any answers. Derek Hale just passed out on his front porch -- sounds like one of the signs of the coming apocalypse.

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

“Got a curse I cannot lift,” Derek grinds out, jaunty beat completely at odds with his murderous glare.

“So,” Stiles says, resting his elbows on his knees and settling his chin in his hands. “Hypothetical then: one of you guys gets dosed with some sex wolfsbane – how do we deal with it?”

Derek and Stiles get body swapped... Interesting things happen.